


Nicotine / Novocaine

by LacrimosaTheDark



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Crossing Timelines, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pining, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacrimosaTheDark/pseuds/LacrimosaTheDark
Summary: UNDER CONSTRUCTIONGOSH DO I NEED TO FINISH THIS





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by a mashup of Nicotine by Panic! at the Disco and Novocaine by Fall Out Boy, as well as my friend Vic (royallyanxious on tumblr) and their lovely prompt anon. Also thank you to my dear awesome amazing superb friend Jude for beta-ing my first chapter <3

Virgil huffed as he appeared in the kitchen. Mornings suck.

~~11:50 is still morning, shut up.~~

Patton jumped, startled by the sudden sound, but smiled brightly. “Good morning Virgil! I made pancakes specially for you!” He pushed a plate down the counter towards him. Virgil snrked. Definitely for him, in the shape of clouds, lightning bolts, and cartoony skulls with heart eyes, with a little post-it on the plate that said “for my best friend” with hearts all around it, and his name in the corner, just in case.

“Thanks, Patton,” Virgil said, taking the plate. He went around to the living room, turning on the TV as Patton clinked about with dishes. “So, where are the others?”

“Oh, Logan went back to his room after breakfast, and Roman--”

“Did somebody say Roman?~”

Virgil nearly choked on the piece of pancake he’d been eating as Roman suddenly popped up next to the couch. The prince smirked as Virgil glared at him.

“Didn’t mean to get you all choked up with my beauty,” Roman teased.

Virgil turned away to hide the flush crawling up his neck as he scoffed. “As if, Princey. More like I had to try to keep my food down.”

Roman gasped, making a huff of deep offense as Patton came in and flopped himself on the couch next to Virgil.

“Whatcha up to today, Roman?” Patton asked, “casually” draping himself over Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil was between shifting anxiously at the close contact, humming at the warmth and weight on him, and laughing at how ridiculous Patton was. He settled for taking another bite of his breakfast with a little smirk on his lips.

“It is quite the venturous day for me, my friend!” Roman said with his usual dramatic flourish. “I must come up with an idea for our next short video, and our next Youtube video as well! Ah, many plans to sift through!”

“And why are you out here now?” Virgil asked through his food.

“I needed some water--”

“Which you could totally conjure yourself.”

“--and a change of scenery.”

“Which you could also do yourself.”

Before Roman could snap back, Patton lightly bonked his head on Virgil’s. “Now, kiddo, no need for that. Maybe Roman just wanted to see us!” Patton said, tightening his arms around Virgil and sending a blinding smile at Roman. Roman huffed and grumbled to himself, turning towards the kitchen.

‘He definitely didn’t come out to see me,’ Virgil reminded himself sternly, taking another bite before his heart could clog up his throat. Patton must have noticed something (who was Virgil kidding, Patton always noticed) because he started stroking Virgil’s hair.

As Roman clattered in the kitchen, Patton continued to be an octopus and tangle himself around Virgil, much to Virgil’s amusement. Patton had made a habit of it whenever Virgil let him, of just lying himself over and around Virgil until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. It was often a source of comfort for Virgil. Especially since he’d never ask for that.

Roman came back around and looked at them. Virgil thought he saw a strange grimace on his face before his glistening princely smile reappeared. Virgil was almost sure he imagined it when Roman said, “Hey, Virge, think you could run some more lines with me this weekend?”

Virgil’s face flushed but he tried to look as casual as he could between that and the squirming best friend attached to him like a toddler. “Yeah, whatever, no problem.”

Roman’s smile widened. “Excellent! Well, you’re quite wrapped up at the moment, so I think I’ll give you some space,” he said with a wink as he began to sink out.

Virgil rolled his eyes and ignored the jump in his pulse, easily distracted from it by Patton squealing “I love you Roman!” in his ear. Roman chuckled and blew a kiss to Patton before he disappeared.

Virgil sighed and Patton nuzzled his cheek. “How are you feelin, buddy?” Patton asked.

He shrugged, resting his head against Patton’s. “I’m fine,” he said. Patton frowned and tightened his grip, a prod for honesty. “Really, Pat, I’m cool. It’s no big deal.”

“We can talk about it,” Patton said. “I can help, can’t I? That’s what best friends do, ya know.”

Virgil smiled as he felt his heart flutter. He lightly bonked his head against Patton’s. “Thanks. But it’s something I gotta figure out on my own. Don’t need to get you caught up in it.” When Patton whined, he chuckled and said, “If I can’t handle it on my own after a while, I’ll come talk to you, okay?”

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to--"

"No!" Patton interrupted forcefully. "Don't say that!"

Virgil chuckled. "Okay, well, I promise. Kay?"

“Okay!~” Patton said, pressing his lips into Virgil’s hair. Virgil fidgetted shyly and tapped Patton’s knee, asking to be released. Patton whined, but let him go.

“Sorry, just...got stuff to do and stuff to think about. I’ll see you later.” He smiled at Patton as he sunk out. “Thanks for breakfast.” His best friend waved to him as he disappeared.

XX

“What could be the problem?” Roman asked huffily.

“I...I-I don’t know,” Thomas said, throwing his arms out.

“Patton, is anything bothering you?” Logan asked.

“Nope! I’m great!” Patton said chipperly, swinging his shoulders.

“I just-- I’m so uncertain, and jittery, and--”

“Anxious?”

Thomas shrieked and stumbled back, startled by the sudden voice. The new figure smirked from the staircase.

“Hey, Thomas,” he said.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Roman growled. “We were doing just fine without you!”

“Now now, no need to be mean, Roman,” Patton said with that light authoritative air he had.

“Quite,” Logan said. “Anxiety rarely shows up without reason, even if it is ridiculously exaggerated.”

Anxiety glared at them all before looking to Thomas. He quirked his eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable.

Thomas sighed. “Okay, what’s going on? Everything’s been great. I’m mostly on schedule, all my videos have been well received, I’ve been hanging out with my friends, and I’ve been trying to expand my reach. What could possibly be wrong?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Anxiety hummed. “Everything is all nice and neat. Almost perfect, wouldn’t you say?”

“It would be perfect without you keeping us from pursuing Thomas’ dreams,” Roman grumbled.

“This is just--it feels out of nowhere. Why did I just get a sucker-punch of nerves?”

“Well,” Anxiety said, “with everything so perfect, something’s gotta drop at some point. Nothing’s this perfect. Ever. Something’s gonna go wrong.”

“But, what exactly are you concerned will go wrong?” Logan asked.

Anxiety shrugged.

Thomas groaned and Roman snarled, “You are an absolute _nightmare_.”

“Your worst nightmare, actually.” Anxiety grinned. “What do you expect from me, Princey?”

“Maybe for you to go away?” Roman snapped.

Patton gasped sharply, eyes wide and hands clapping over his mouth. Logan watched Anxiety for a reaction, subtly taking a step closer to the staircase. Anxiety just smirked wider and shrugged.

“I’m just doing my job, Sir Whines-a-Lot. But if you wanna solve this without me, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, sinking out.

XX

Virgil  sighed and flopped back on his bed. He promised himself, silently promised the others, that he’d forget about it, that he’d act normal. It didn’t mean anything. But he couldn’t get it, get _him_ , out of his head.

About a week prior, Roman had asked Virgil to run lines with him. Nothing new, they did it all the time. Roman said something once about boosting Virgil’s confidence or whatever, and he was always adamant that Roman had to practice and be perfect and blah blah blah. But that time was...different. In the script Roman had handed Virgil, asked him to practice, the characters...kissed.

He licked his lips, as if some part of him stupidly thought he could still find a trace of Roman there. It had been terrifying and wonderful and murderously awkward. Virgil was able to brush it off and excuse himself before he made more of an idiot of himself, but it just kept replaying in his head; how warm and gentle Roman’s hands and lips were, how he seemed so careful and...

Virgil knew he was probably imagining it, filling in gaps in his memory with fantasies, but, fuck, he knew what Roman felt like and tasted like now. And he wanted it again. But he knew he couldn’t have it. Roman didn’t act any different, at least not that Virgil noticed. But Virgil was nervous, avoiding Roman when he felt his heart beating too fast or his palms sweating or his cheeks burning. A week of daydreaming, of trying to act normal, of trying to distance himself from Roman, and the thoughts still wouldn’t go away.

Virgil got up to turn the lock on his door before sitting back on his bed to do the one thing that cleared his head.

He took a deep breath, feeling the air in his room filling his lungs, and he held it a moment before exhaling. A billowing cloud of shadows left his lips, like foggy breath in cold air,  and he felt somewhat calmer. He imagined this is what it would feel like to smoke, though hopefully with less consequences to his/Thomas’ health. It helped him relax, numbed the pain a bit. Sure, it was hard to breathe, but it was usually hard to breathe, especially in his room, so it’s not like it made a huge difference.

XX

Anxiety leaned back against his door, locking it before heading to his bed and collapsing facedown in his sheets. Even after an outburst like that, Logan probably wouldn’t check on him for a few hours, and Patton would let him be until like, dinner or something. Roman might try to confront him, but like heck he was gonna answer.

He rolled over and stared at his ceiling.  It was getting harder to play the bad guy, to pretend the others didn’t affect him. It was worse when he caught them being...not cruel. He was good at being sneaky, and he’d caught them a few times being...being something he wished he could be, something he could be part of. And knowing he couldn’t, that Logan would never look at him with the fond exasperation he did the others, that Patton’s affection would always be tinted with fear, that Roman would never look at him with those fond, enamored eyes or with that proud, sassy smirk on his face...

It hurt to be alone. But he knew what would help.

Anxiety sat up and situated himself, rolling up his sleeves to get to the crook of his elbow. He ran his fingertips lightly over the soft skin before tapping two fingers on the veins and arteries that showed through his pale skin. He watched as the spider web of blood turned black, darkness flowing through them, numbing him in a way nothing else did. He took a deep breath and sighed, feeling himself relax.

“Ah, Virgil, it’s so good to see you haven’t given up that disgusting habit of yours.”

Anxiety sat up straight, trying to get his hazy vision to focus. “How’d you get in here?”

Virgil’s head snapped down and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

 

Deceit smiled an almost pleasant smile. “Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

 

Anxiety screwed up his lips in cautious but palpably irritable silence.

“Screw you,” Virgil scoffed, blowing smoke in his snakey face.

 

Deceit growled irritably before the smile came back. “My, haven’t they taught you any manners by now? You’ve been around them long enough.”

 

“What do you want?” Anxiety asked skeptically.

“What do you want?” Virgil huffed irritably, breathing more smoke into the air above their heads idly.

 

“I’ve been watching, Virgil, you know I always am. And I see you struggling. Just look at you,” he tsked. “Such unsavory habits.”

 

Anxiety wrapped his arms around himself to hide his black veins, scowling and hunching forward threateningly.

Virgil stared at him blankly and exhaled smoke from his nose like a dragon.

 

Deceit grinned. “See? And of course, what better way to ease your suffering than to give you a gift?” He flicked his wrist and behind him, against the wall, was a tall, ornate mirror.

 

Anxiety got up and stepped towards it. “A mirror?” he questioned.

Virgil stood and stepped forward, examining the mirror without letting Deceit leave his line of sight. “And why would I need a mirror?”

 

“This isn’t any ordinary mirror,” he hissed happily. “This mirror is special. When you look into it, it shows you _possibilities_. It shows you what you could be, or could have been.”

 

Anxiety frowned. “That sounds like bull to me.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Deceit. “Either you’re lying to me, or you’re telling the truth to get me to do something.”

 

Deceit shrugged. “Why must you always assume malevolence? Don’t forget, I am also a part of Thomas, I only want what’s best, even if we don’t see eye to eye.” He winked his slit eye and rolled his shoulders. “Either way, it’s yours now. Do with it what you will.” He waved sweetly as he sunk out. “Won’t be seeing you again soon, Virgil.”

 

Anxiety scowled at his retreating form, rubbing his arms.

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed smoke disdainfully in his direction.

...

He turned to examine the mirror and frowned. One side was dark, black metal with spirals of silver, while the other side also had hints of purple in the design. All he could see in the reflective surface was him, same as always. Same tired eyes, same hunched form, same old room behind him.

He pressed his hand against it. It was expectedly cold, and felt good against his warm skin. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to it. He yelped as it gave way, like water, or how you imagine cool liquid metal would feel.

He fell through.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil wakes up.

Virgil groaned as he opened his eyes. He shook his head as he sat up. He must have passed out.

He got up and dusted himself off, stretching and yawning. He had no idea how long he’d been out. His clock was no help, and like hell was he gonna burn his eyes out by looking at his phone. But his mouth was dry, so he was gonna need some water. He shrugged, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders and running his fingers through his messy hair, pushing it down over his eyes like usually did, and sunk out.

When he appeared in the kitchen, the other three were at the table, chatting. Once Virgil took a step forward, that noticed him and silence fell, much to Virgil’s confusion. He felt their eyes on him and glanced at them. Their expressions were...confusing.

Logan’s eyes were scanning him head to toe with a slight furrow of intrigue. Patton looked stunned. Virgil knew if they were a cartoon Patton would have hearts in his eyes right now. He looked awestruck. And Roman looked...angry. If he were a cartoon, there’d be smoke spouting from his ears. Virgil stopped just short of trying to think through anything he could have done to upset Roman in the meantime, but he hadn’t talked to him since he’d asked to run lines, so he was entirely lost. They were all being strange.

“Yyyyyo,” he said hesitantly, saluting in greeting.

Patton was the first to speak, a bright grin on his face. “You look amazing, kiddo!”

Virgil blinked, startled. His lips quirked slightly and he felt his cheeks flush a little. He didn’t look much different than he did earlier. Heck, he probably looked worse. But maybe Patton thought it was artful or something. “Uh...thanks?”

“You rarely leave your room without purpose,” Logan said, still watching Virgil closely. “Did you need something?”

Virgil shrugged. “Just came to get some water,” he said, stepping around the table to grab a glass. He fidgeted with a loose string on his sleeve as he felt three pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head.

“Are you hungry, buddy?” Patton asked, as Virgil filled his cup. “There’s some leftovers from last night if you want some?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed, and he was about to say how he thought he’d finished the leftovers last night when the others slept, but Roman chose that moment to say, “Why does he need to take the food? It’s not like he needs energy to do _nothing_ and not let _anyone else_ do _anything_ all day.”

Virgil paused, startled by the harshness in Roman’s tone, but quickly schooled his expression into his easy snarky smirk and ignored the way his chest tightened painfully. “Actually it takes a lot of energy to keep your ass out of trouble, Princey.”

Roman scoffed and his face grew bright red, and Virgil had a feeling it wasn’t just embarrassment. Virgil saw his fist clench and just barely had the sense to keep himself from fleeing then and there.

“Now, now,” Patton said soothingly, putting himself between the two. “No need for fighting or mean words.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a plate of food, food that Virgil didn’t remember Patton preparing (just how long had he been out?), and holding it out to Virgil. “Here you go! I hope you like it, Anxiety.”

If his lungs weren’t constricted before, they were now. But he forced a neutral expression as he took the plate. “...Thanks, Patton,” he mumbled. He sunk out back to his room, ignoring the sharpness of eyes on him.

He set the plate and glass on his bedside table and climbed onto his dresser, pulling his legs up to his chest tightly. He counted his breaths, trying to keep the stress from overwhelming him.

Patton--his best friend--had called him Anxiety. Anxiety. _Anxiety_ . Patton hadn’t called him that since they learned his name. And Patton was more prone to affectionate nicknames, punny pet names. And even if that wasn’t a big deal (it shouldn’t be, it _shouldn’t_ , it’s a fucking name, he’s not even _real_ ) Patton hadn’t asked to hug him, hadn’t patted his shoulder, hadn’t so much as let their fingers touch when he handed him the dish of leftovers. He’d said he looked good, but usually that was followed by an invasion of personal space or some other clear demonstration of affection, but there was...nothing.

And Roman... _Roman_. What had happened? He thought they were getting along well, he had seen Roman trying hard, so hard to be kind and accepting after all the bullying. He had been acting like he almost enjoyed having Virgil around. And even though they still fought, Roman tried not to get so mad, and he always apologized after, so...what was that? Just remembering his expression Virgil felt his stupid, infatuated heart pound against his ribcage in distressed agony.

He didn’t hear the knock on his door, or hear the voice, or even hear the whoosh of another person entering until Logan stood directly in front of him, staring directly in his eyes. He jumped slightly, his hands immediately gripping the dresser for purchase and his feet spreading to catch his balance.

“How long have you been here?” Virgil asked.

“Approximately five minutes and forty-three seconds,” Logan said. When he offered nothing else, Virgil readjusted and glared.

“Is there a reason you’re in my room?” he snapped.

Logan tilted his head somewhat, eyes narrowed. “You were behaving strangely. I thought it better to check on you than to leave you to your...devices. I attempted to reach you without entering your territory, but your lack of response forced my hand.”

“ _I_ was behaving strangely?” Virgil scoffed. “Me? What about you guys?”

Logan blinked but remained unfazed. “What about us?” Virgil pursed his lips and looked away stubbornly. When Logan ascertained no information was forthcoming, he huffed irritably and glance down at Virgil’s outfit. “What is with the new threads?”

It took Virgil a second to recognize what Logan was even saying. His clothes, right. “What are you talking about? I’ve been wearing this outfit for months.”

Logan’s expression was perplexed, but he moved on. “You seemed...perturbed when Patton handed you the food from our previous evening meal. Why is that?”

Virgil glared. “You’re the smart one, why don’t you figure it out?”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth, clicking his mouth open before saying. “I don’t have sufficient data to come to a proper conclusion. So, as they say, humor me.”

Virgil pursed his lips. When Logan also remained silent and still, his expression impatient but his posture firm, Virgil huffed through his nose and brought his knees back to his chest. “He called me Anxiety.”

Logan’s brow furrowed even more. “What else would he call you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my _name?_ ”

Silence stretched between them, Virgil tucking into himself and Logan looking thoughtful. It dragged on, somewhat tense but not with the pressure there had been before. Virgil tucked his head behind his knees, exhaling a small puff of shadow where Logan couldn’t see.

“This may seem to be an intrusive request--” Virgil jumped at Logan suddenly breaking their silence, looking right at him. “--but I would like to check something, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Virgil looked at him warily. “What is it?”

Logan stepped back, giving Virgil more space. “Could I ask that you remove your jacket?” When Virgil grabbed at it protectively, Logan said, “I can set it aside for you, or you can. I don’t have to touch it if it makes you uncomfortable.” Virgil narrowed his eyes, but slowly worked his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. Logan glanced down at his sleeves and asked, “Could you manage to roll those up? If not, I may need you to remove that as well.” Virgil hissed threateningly, but began rolling up his sleeves as best he could. They got a little tight around his elbows, but he managed.

Logan stepped forward and held his hand out cautiously. “May I?” Virgil huffed and flicked his wrist to tell him to proceed. Logan gently took his wrist, examining it with sharp, analytical eyes, apparently seeing something Virgil didn’t. His finger lightly traced from the web of veins on his wrist upward, in a touch so delicate Virgil felt a jerk in his gut and the urge to shudder in his shoulders. When Logan traced up to his elbow on one arm, he repeated the process on the other. Virgil had no idea what the nerd was looking for.

Logan’s lip pursed and he took a step closer, to Virgil’s surprise gently placing his fingers of one hand on Virgil’s jaw, turning it to the side and tilting it upward. Virgil knew Logan was repeating his vein-watching on his neck when his pulse jumped directly under Logan’s fingertips. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

As Logan moved to pull back, he paused. Virgil heard him inhale through his nose and they both looked at each other strangely.

Logan stepped back, one hand finding its thoughtful place on his face, the other hand cupping his elbow. “If you don’t mind me asking...what do I smell on your breath?”

Virgil immediately snapped into defensive posture, rolling down his sleeves and flipping his hoodie back in place. “Actually, I do mind. Why don’t you tell me why you randomly wanted to play doctor?”

Logan rolled his shoulders back. “I have a hypothesis I needed to check. This may sound strange, but remember that I am the logical one and trust me that I have sound reasoning. I will explain if need be.”

“Oh my--just get to it, windbag,” Virgil groaned.

“I don’t think you’re our Anxiety.”

“...”

Silence hung around them as what Logan said sunk in.

“What...” Virgil looked at him, eyes wide. “I don’t...that doesn’t make sense, what do you--”

“Easy,” Logan said, in a surprisingly soft voice. “Deep breaths.” Logan very slowly took one of Virgil’s hands and placed it over Logan’s chest, breathing deeply and deliberately. Virgil’s breath quickened for a moment, but as Logan closed his eyes, breathing precise and measured, slowly Virgil’s fell into a pattern to match. After about a minute of synchronized breathing, Logan opened his eyes and dropped Virgil’s wrist. Slowly Virgil pulled his arm back, cradling to his chest.

Virgil looked away and cleared his throat. “Uh...you, uh, gonna explain that?”

Logan nodded slowly. “The Anxiety that I myself am familiar with wears a black hoodie with a grey almost-plaid pattern, and a black shirt and sneakers. Monochromatic style. Additionally,” When Logan hesitated, Virgil looked up, and Logan was eyeing Virgil’s wrists again. “our Anxiety has a rather...unsatisfactory habit of taking negative thoughts from his room into himself, as a way to numb himself, so he has told me. Specifically, he pulls it into his bloodstream, sometimes resulting in temporarily blackened veins and arteries.” Logan looked back up into Virgil’s eyes. “Both your arms and your neck, places where blood is closest to the surface, seem more natural and untainted than that of the Anxiety I am familiar with.”

Virgil looked down at his arms and frowned. That’s...odd. “You keep saying Anxiety.”

“Our Anxiety has not told us his name.”

Virgil shook his head. “This is...too weird. This is a dream or something.”

“Dreams are rarely so even. And more unbelievable things have happened to us, thanks to Roman.”

Virgil snorted before his expression fell again, his chest aching as he remembered the last expression he saw on Roman’s face. He shook his head.

“Okay, pretend that what you just told me isn’t one-hundred percent insane. How did I get here?”

Logan tapped his chin. “You looked somewhat ruffled when you entered the kitchen. Had you just woken up?”

“Yeah, I...I passed out.”

Logan nodded thoughtfully. “And do you recall what you were doing prior to your loss of consciousness?”

Virgil grimaced. “Yeah, I was--...!!” Virgil blinked, eyes wide as his face stung from the impact of his hand over his mouth. Logan’s eyes widened, then narrowed.

“I see,” he mumbled. “Is there anything you can communicate to me?”

Virgil searched his memory, trying to recall what the snake had been yammering about while he smoked in his face. Virgil’s eye caught the mirror, the mirror that hadn’t been there before the deceiver had been there. His gift. Logan must have noticed, because he followed Virgil’s eyes and turned to approach the mirror.

Logan hummed, eyeing the reflective surface. “Interesting...”

Virgil dropped his hand and cleared his throat. Logan turned with a raised eyebrow.

“So...what now?”

Logan looked up, tilting his head. “You will be here until we find a way to return you and retrieve our Anxiety--hopefully you merely switched places--so it would be beneficial that we sort out the differences between the two of you and your relationships to the others and his.”

Virgil looked at him flatly. “English?”

Logan’s lip quirked before his serious face returned. “We need to figure out what makes you different.”


End file.
